The Girl Who Caught Time
by jDanny96
Summary: This is about a girl who doesn't want anyone to know her Grace, and Po and Katsa's son, Luke, who stumbles upon her and is curious to know. I'm writing this as I go along, so don't expect anything!
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The girl with an eye painted water grey and the other a striking shade of violet tore across the village square of Rashka. Her dress was torn and thin, which was surprising as it was the dead of winter in Middluns**.** This girl's auburn hair whipped across the air, as she ran to an inn near the edge of the village. No one noticed her, or didn't _want_ to notice her, and she got to her destination in peace.

The common room fire warmed the girl's skin, giving her goose bumps as the feeling was so unusual to her. Being warm was a luxury she hadn't lived with for seventeen years. She huddled near the fire, trying not to be noticed by the robust innkeeper. She cussed at her vivid hair, trying to tame it so she wasn't a walking sign. Hands shaking, her fingers pulled off her gloves and warmed them, as they were near frost bite stage, near the fire. How good it felt, she would never be able to describe.

"Oi! You there! Red haired girl! Who you with, now?" The voice belonged to the innkeeper, a heavy woman with steel gray hair and a nasty stare. Without turning around, scared the fire would just magically disappear if she didn't give it her whole attention, she replied, "No one, miss."

"Did you pay to use my fire?" The woman sounded angry, as if she had to pay the fire for its warmth. "No, miss." Still, the girl averted her gaze. "You can always use my fire," said a merchant at one of the long, wooden tables that occupied the room. He and his mates were obviously drunk. His friends laughed, and he leered at her. Oh well, she thought. Time to look at them.

The moment she did, the bustling of the servant girls, the rambunctious laugh and conversation of the travelers sitting and drinking, and the innkeeper were silent. This kingdom wasn't like Lienid**, **which she'd heard about, and how they accepted the Graced as extraordinary people. Here, it was as if being Graced was a disease, and couldn't be destroyed or prevented. __"Girl! Why aren't you working for the king? It's your duty!" one of the other merchants asked, with a northern accent. "Unless, of course, your Grace is absolutely useless." Another one chuckled. If only the king knew I existed, the girl mused. "Whether she can spear anything with a wink or cook a whole pork in three seconds, it doesn't matter. You got to leave girl, now! This is my inn and I don't want no infested person messing it up." The innkeeper stated. The girl jumped up.

"Of course, miss. Sorry to bother you, miss." And the girl left the small, clean inn in exchange for harsh winds and knee deep snow. The girl hated being polite, respecting the people who trampled all over her. But she had to, because of her mother. And because she wanted no one to find out what her Grace was. That would be the worst thing that would ever happen to her. Worst than losing her mother—her only family—to that Monsean king so long ago, King Leck, or losing her inheritance to a greedy uncle who wanted her as a bride, and even worst than being so alone in a world that would always hate her. Much, much worse.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Maybe it wasn't meant to be that he didn't have a Grace. Why he cared now, after seventeen years of being normal, was a mystery to him. But it still gnawed at him. He, Prince Luke of Lienid, had two amazingly Graced parents—known for saving a kingdom—and they got stuck with him, a blue eyed, brown haired kid. They always told him they never cared that he wasn't Graced, and that he shouldn't be envious, as it was more of a burden than a gift. But Luke knew they were just trying to make him feel better. He felt sorry that his parents, Po and Katsa, were so great, and they had _him_. So, ever since he was seven, he tried making it up to them. Luke practiced fighting, with a passion of no other, and he learned archery, throwing daggers, using a sword, disarming a man in less than a minute, and just for kicks, learned to play the trumpet. But even he knew it wasn't enough. It would never come close to being Graced.

So Luke was happy, and a bit sad, when his mother gave birth to twins, and in the few weeks following, they found out that both were Graced when their eyes changed. His sister, Lea, and brother, Matrik, would be who he never was. But he kept on fighting, because what else could he do? Luke was becoming unbearably restless. He wanted to see the seven kingdoms he heard so much about. He wanted to feel the fresh air, and feel the freedom that came with it. Another reason, although he didn't want to admit it to himself, was that he wanted to leave his family, for now. He consoled that they wouldn't miss him, as his parents had Graced children, which was what he knew they always wanted. Never him.

His last, obvious reason for leaving in the middle of the night with just a knapsack and his best stallion, Ginger, was that he was avoiding marriage. Not that his parents or the court pressed him. But his grandfather did, throwing beautiful maidens at him. Luke didn't have to lie when he said that the women were gorgeous, but he didn't feel attached in anyway to any of them. He didn't find a damsel in distress attractive. He wanted someone who could ride a horse at full speed, maybe throw a dagger properly and who could be able to cope alone at home for days while he was away. These girls were just glass dolls, made to be admired at. Never to be touched, or held, or used. Just to be looked at, forever.

Luke started his journey by going down the path of the mountain, which held his grandfather's city, to a service boat. This would be the only time he'd use his prince status, because he needed to get across fast, before his doubts came to haunt him. Once he's off the Lienid territory, he was safe.

"Excuse me?" Luke asked a small boy, who was miniscule compared to Luke on his horse. The boy turned, and froze with terror. Whether he knew he was a prince or not, it did not matter. "Do you know the first ship out of Lienid?" He asked gently. The little boy, after a minute or two of stuttering and looking as if he wished he jumped into the ocean, simply pointed to a boat full of fish. Oh great. The only ship that actually had an overpowering odor. Luke knew he should never trust luck. It never did go his way.

He didn't mean to look pompous on his big horse, but from all the dirty stares he got, he probably did. Luke quickly got to the ship, which was the farthest one out, and yelled to a man on board. The man, young and sturdy, cocked his head to the side, as if comprehending what Luke had said. But eventually he got off the ship and went to Luke.

"Please, take me to your captain! I am Prince Luke, and I ask of your captain for a ride to wherever you are going." Personally, Luke didn't like begging, but in this case, it worked. The man led him to the cabin in the ship where the captain was. Luke, of course, had to leave Ginger off the ship, for now at least. The captain, apparently, was a woman. A young woman, which Luke had a hard time believing. But he had to, as he was going to grovel at her heels to make her let him and Ginger come on board.

The inside of the cabin wasn't anything he expected. It was plain; the only furnishing was two chairs and a desk. It seemed like the captain was new there, and didn't move her stuff in yet. Luke hoped she wasn't the kind of girl who couldn't wait to decorate it with daffodils or something equally ridiculous. He was so absorbed into his own thoughts he first didn't hear the woman captain speak.

"_Hello_, Prince Luke. I am Captain Jones." The voice was strong, but unmistakably female. Luke focused his eyes on her, and sighed in relief. She was Graced, with a grey eye and a light orange eye, but she did not seem like a woman who would decorate an office with daffodils. She wasn't delicate or fragile. Her face was tan, except for the white lines that indicated deep scars. His age, maybe a bit older. All her blond hair was chopped off, to resemble a shaggy boy look. She did not have an hourglass figure, but instead it was slim and lean as a young boy's. Luke smiled, and extended his hand. "Hello, Captain Jones. Now, I must go right to the point, if you excuse my bluntness. I need a ride, by ship obviously, and you are the first ship out. I will be out by your first port, as I'll hop off then. Of course, I need to bring my stallion with me."

"Well," she said, eyeing him. "You are definitely stern, and know what you want. But it's my ultimate duty to serve you, Prince, so I must say yes. And bring your stallion on board. Who'll notice a three hundred pound beast on board? It's not as if it won't blend in." Whether she was trying to be funny or not, Luke laughed, just for good measure.

"If I may so ask, Captain Jones, where _is_ your next shipment to?" Luke felt the pulsing of his heart beat, the excitement that surrounded him. "South Bay, in Sunder. They've been needing more fish ever since all those riots broke loose." Riots? Luke smiled. Finally, something _exciting._


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

South Bay, Sunder. That was where the girl was headed. She heard the whisperings of the riots—massive riots. This is where she had to go. Why? Because she went wherever trouble landed. Even though in the kingdoms' eyes, she was just another Graced nobody, she knew she had an important task. Her task might've been seen as simple to anybody else if the girl ever explained it, but it never was. She had to stop these rebellions, all the quiet ones and also all the massive, full blown revolts. Sometimes, she never wanted to stop the rightly caused rebellions, but it was her duty, laid down by her mother. If the girl never found that lone, old envelope at her burned house, she would've been a rebellious protestor. But her mother had other plans for her only daughter.

The girl had to steal a mule, which she hated doing. But she rationed with herself that no one would want an old, half blind mule that bucked every five minutes. She rode for two days, riding the life out of the poor mule. On the third, when they just reached Sunder border, she left the mule at an inn and then took the inn's smallest horse. Big horses were just for showing off. Besides, smaller horses ran faster.

The riot was bigger than she expected. Much, much bigger. In fact, the girl cringed at the idea that she had to stop this. It wasn't just some random villagers who were angry at the king for making them pay more taxes, or that he took away their children to be used in the court. No, this was _every_ villager who seemed to have a clear head while butchering the King's men. People who are level in all this chaos were well organized. And the girl had never dealt with an organized riot. She looked up at the sky, and was startled to see that she couldn't see the stars she so loved, but only smoke and red light reflected from all the fires around her. Somehow, that unleashed some of her anger. The only thing that never left her was covered up by some _idiot's_ decision of not obeying a man that could kill him with a wave of his hand. She had to stop it, breaking a few wrists in the process.

The girl saw her destination—a platform that raised above everybody's heads. There she could calm everybody, and give them reasons why their revolts were utterly stupid and then she'd have to break their hopes as deeply as she could. Even if they were tearing up her sky, it broke her heart to tell these people who had courage, guts and were all probably doing the right thing by rebelling that they will never win.

She had to go through all the fighting to get to the podium. She was halfway there, unnoticed by anybody, when a villager viciously hit her arm with a club. He knew she wasn't on his side. The girl unsheathed her dagger from its leather holster, but she would not strike the man unless he hit her again. Which he did. So, not trying to kill the man, she did a roundhouse kick that was intended for his upper chest, and it knocked the wind out of him. Once she did that, it was as if all the other villagers knew she was their highest priority of stopping.

The girl had put a rod in her long, red braid, which had spikes. The first villager to grab it with such force screamed in pain. Suddenly, five grown men were coming at her. But not for long. She punched one right in the nose and struck him in his privates with her knee, and then she got the one to the right of her with a painful twist of the arm—until it popped—and struck him in his side with the butt of her dagger. The two that were in front and behind her were the easiest, because as they charged at her, she stepped simply to the side and the men knocked into each other, and they became unconscious. The last wasn't so easy. He had skill, as he seemed younger than the rest. He fought with two long swords, which she defended herself by taking one of swords from the men on the ground. They were pretty even, until he slashed her on her stomach. It wasn't deep or bleeding profusely, but she started to see red. That's why she jumped onto one of the carts that littered the streets and jumped him, slashing his side hard. He fell to the ground, his eyes still open.

The world stopped for her in that moment. She killed him. Accidently, but still slaughtered him. The girl wanted to use her Grace so badly, to bring him back, but she didn't. She vowed she'd never use it, no matter what. So, instead, she closed his eyelids and said a blessing. Then, went for the platform.

Her feet were ready to lift her into the air when a dagger whizzed through the air, millimeters from her ear. Startled, she stumbled and fell back—into something very solid. Arms went around her and righted her up again. Turning around, she saw who saved her. It was a man, but unlike any man she ever saw. He had brown curling hair that was untidy, and the iciest blue eyes she ever saw. That wasn't what made him different from all the other men she encountered. It was the thin, golden hoops in both his ears, and all the rings that covered his fingers, each a different size and design. The girl was so surprised that when this man smiled and asked for her name, she said the name she hadn't said since her childhood. Her real name. "Kiera."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Kiera. What an unusual name. Even in the poor lighting, he could tell she was Graced. Her almond shaped eyes were widened, probably because he _was_ holding her at a battle scene, and he could only guess that she wasn't use to people not screaming in fear when they saw her eyes. She seemed his age, young to be fighting in this bloodbath.

"Hello there, Kiera. I'm Luke." He smiled and let her go. She gave him a timid half smile but then started to move through the throng of people quickly. Luke knew she didn't want him to follow, but how could he not? All he wanted was adventure, and she seemed like the person to deliver it. He could plainly see her destination was the platform. He mused as for what in the world would be her purpose.

She was about to speak, her form tall and strong, above so many heads, when Luke crashed into her, making them both fall to the ground. Right after that, an arrow was shot by where Kiera's head should've been. Luke saw people starting to turn around, directing their attention at him and her, and not to the fight. It was as if they all were connecting the girl and boy on stage as enemies, possibly because one of their own stupidly tried to fight them. Villagers started to mob them, their knives and clubs held high.

The only thing Luke could do—with his fear climbing upon him—was take this strange girl's hand and start running to his horse, which was mounted safely away from the riot. He pulled her upon Ginger and threw himself on, the angry mob at their heels. They tore away from the scene, the girl holding his waist pretty tightly and her head to his back.

They had been riding for almost two hours when Luke decided they had to stop to rest. The poor girl seemed on the verge of sleep but she was fighting it persistently. He started up a fire on the side of a beaten up path, a small pitiful one, but a fire none less. Luke pulled the girl off Ginger and put her near the fire, trying to waken her senses.

"What?" She looked around drowsily. Luke laid her down gently, and gave her some bread, which she ate quite quickly for a lady. Kiera was coming to her senses, becoming more alert and awake. "Wait. Where am I? The riot? And who are you?" She got up, and stumbled a bit from being light headed, and slowly backed away from Luke. He chuckled.

"I am no one of great harm, my lady. And you are on a beaten path, borderlines of Sunder and Wester. I couldn't get us to an inn without you passing completely out first. And the riot is still on, but we had to leave. We were getting attacked by the villagers. Don't you remember?" He looked at her. She shook her head, her deadly braid swinging back and forth.

"Well, no worries there." He leaned back, admiring the stars. They always were his constant companion. Those bright burning stars, hidden by day. "Well, who are you then?" Kiera asked him. She wasn't letting him off the hook that easily.

Who was he, really? He knew he could not tell her he was a prince. That would make her even more anxious to get away from him. "I am Luke. From Lienid." A satisfactory answer. "And you are Kiera, as you've told me." When he said that, she turned white. For no reason he could muster up. Then he asked the question he has wanted to ask her ever since he caught her.

"Kiera—should I call you Kay instead? Is that more comfortable to you?—I have been wondering." He looked nonchalantly at the fire. "What is your grace?"


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Kiera liked being called Kay, as it was a safe alternative. And she laughed inside. Like she would tell this stranger her gift, or curse more like it. She looked at the sky when she answered.

"I will tell you my Grace only if you share yours." This statement received the most shocked silence she had ever heard (or, in that case, not heard). The man, Luke, laughed, confused. "I do not possess of such. My eyes are both blue." This made Kay curious. He did not know? How did he not know?

"Sir, I mean Luke, your eyes might both be blue, but they are not the same shade of blue. One is aqua, the other is turquoise. Have you never noticed?" Surely, as he was in his young manhood, he would've noticed. Wasn't that correct?

Luke was stunned. She was joking with him. That was it. It was always the trick of the light that made his eyes different shades…not because he was truly Graced. Kay continued. "Just because they are both the same general color, does not mean you are not Graced. I have not met anyone like your situation—yet. But I feel as though having colors closely related means your Grace is subtle."

Luke looked at her eyes again. "So this means your Grace is definitely the opposite of subtle, yes?" Kay laughed. She did not know this stranger who saved her, but she felt as though she could trust him. And she hasn't felt that way about anyone, but she trusted her instinct. Without it, she would probably be dead. So, Kay decided, even if she doubted her instinct at that moment, she would trust this Luke.

"So, where are you headed?" Kay changed the subject, but Luke did not notice the detour. "Truthfully? I have no idea." He leaned back. "And also truthfully? I'm absolutely loving it." There was no lie to this statement. He loved being spontaneous. It suited him quite nicely, actually.

"Well, could you drop me off at the next town, when we get to it?" Even though Kay trusted this man, she didn't want some sort of traveling companion. That would be too much to ask for. The man nodded. "It'll be tomorrow morning. Just two hours of traveling and we'll be in Chamn. Is that okay?" Luke wanted to see if anything interesting was happening there. He heard so many wild stories, he was excited.

"Yes. Thank you." Kay felt suddenly tired, as though all of it was catching up to her. She didn't know if she should say good night, or not, so she just laid down on the grass and curled up. She was fast asleep in five minutes flat.

By the time they got to Chamn, Kay's bum was hurting from all the riding. Another thing she didn't like about big horses was that they were very, _very_ uncomfortable. They past corn fields, farms, and dead patches until they reached the busy town of Chamn. The aroma of baking bread and pastries made Kay's stomach, to her embarrassment, growl very loudly. Luke laughed, "It's a good thing yours growled first, or else mine would've." She smiled silently. Her hand went in her pocket, and grabbed a few gold coins. It was as though Luke knew what she was doing. "No, I get to pay for the food before you leave. As a thank you for all the excitement you've given me." She couldn't resist free food. It only came once a lifetime.

The bakery was warm, small and very cramped. Farmers, merchants, and many other sorts were sitting down at the small tables, eating and talking. Kay ordered half a loaf of white bread with turkey and cheese in between. Luke ordered a swordfish sandwich, a strange order in Wester. They stole the last table, which squeezed them in between a rowdy table of travelers and another group of venders.

Kay was eating quite un-ladylike when she heard parts of the conversation to her left.

"That's what I heard too," "Jayne from across the street swears he's the one up to the riots," "mad as a hatter he is. Doesn't even riot for the people!" Kay found that extremely strange. Riots, this man created, but not for the people? What for?

"I'm telling you. This Rybe Moring is bad news." Like a gift, one of the men said the name. That was all she needed. She got up hastily from the table, her sandwich only crumbs. "I must go. I'm sorry. Thank you." Kay started to briskly walk to the exit, until Luke grabbed her wrist. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to let her go and never think twice.

"Don't think I didn't hear that conversation too. I'm coming with you. I need an adventure in my life." He looked so serious, his blue eyes determined not to let her go, which was an unusual sensation to Kay. She thought about the two options. If she left him, there would be no other liability on her hands, but if she let him come along, she'd have extra protection as he seemed the kind of man who could take care of himself, and she'd have—for the first time ever—actual company. Someone, if she was extremely lucky, she could actually talk to without them being afraid.

Kay put on her best grudging look and said, "Fine. But there are two conditions. One, you better know how to fight and take care of yourself. Second, you have to disguise yourself and cannot talk to anybody you know. I have never met a Lienid, and I know you're one. You don't fit in here." Luke immediately nodded. "We might even have to dye your hair…and no way can you wear those hoops and rings. We'll keep them safe, of course." Kay was almost certain he'd back down at the prospect of dying his hair. She heard most Lienids were vain. But Luke nodded again.

Kay grinned. "Let's go to an inn. I already have the herbs to make your hair blond." Luke looked a bit sick, but followed her. He was in the process of taking off his hoops and rings and putting them in a bag when they reached an inn. Kay covered her eyes with her hair, as best as she could, and lowered her head. "If anyone notices my eyes, tell them I am harmless and your servant. If asked about my Grace, tell them I am a very good server." Luke understood and walked in with a bit of a swagger, to seem like an important man, which ironically, he was in real life. A skinny middle aged man showed them a room with no problem, and it came with a silver basin of clear water and a pitcher.

Luke started to look at his hair in the mirror, feeling as though it was already gone. Kay took her dyes—bits of herbs and somehow a turnip got involved with the mix—and set them up. She gestured for Luke to come to her, and he did. She dampened his hair, dipped her hands in the dyes, which were in a small bowl, and slathered it in his hair. She couldn't help notice how soft and thick his hair was. It looked good brown, so it was sad to see it go. "Oh, Luke? I'll have to dye your eyebrows also." She forgot about that. At that, he definitely looked a bit green around the gills.

She finished within thirty minutes, making sure no hair was left untouched. "I'll just look a bit odd with blond hair and eyebrows and brown chest hair. The sacrifice for an adventure, I tell you." Luke laughed. She laughed too, blushing a bit, for who knows why. She finally dried his hair, but didn't let him look at it in the mirror until she cut it shorter, up to his scalp. The curls fell in clumps, and she felt only a bit guilty for making him do this. As he said, it was the sacrifice for an adventure.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Luke couldn't believe that he couldn't recognize himself. In less than two hours, he went from Prince of Lienid to some unknown, rugged traveler. Luke rationed with Kiera that if _he_ had to change, so did she. So she switched her auburn hair for midnight black, cut it to her shoulders (without protest, which was surprising) and ate a special concoction that turned both her eyes a dull brown. She had to drink it every other hour, or else they'd slowly turn back.

So it was Luke and Kiera—Luke Taylor, a traveler visiting anonymous cousins and his companion and sister, Kay Taylor. They set off in the early morning, with one fresh horse for Kiera that Luke bought from the inn and they were headed for Thackyn City, the busiest and nosiest city of all seven kingdoms. Their plan wasn't complex, but it wasn't foolproof either. They would try to catch gossip from the best source there is—the butcher shop Reb Yager owns. It was big, it had fresh food, and it consisted of the most talkative people anyone could meet. They'd ask around, casually mention the man's name, so they could get a lead. It wasn't really a plan they realized, but it was something.

Their ride would take two days. Under the afternoon heat, it felt as though it was going on forever. Kiera was either too proud or too oblivious to notice her and his' stomachs were empty. It was probably the first one, as even though Luke only knew her for two days' time, he could see she took pride seriously. So he was the one to make them stop, to guide the horses to a stream, and eat. Luke tried starting some conversation, but Kay shot him down every time. It seemed to him that it wasn't as if she _didn't_ want to talk, but she didn't know _how_. He could tell she wasn't use to company, ever.

They stopped to sleep late at night, when the moon was halfway up the sky. They let the horses—a small chestnut one and Luke's Ginger—roam for grass and settled camp near the shelter of the thick, green trees that were called Mytle trees. Some stories were told that when a man searching for hope, or when a wounded man came, they would press against the trunk of the oldest Mytle tree in the forest, and would hear voices. Beautiful, beautiful voices that gave strength and faith to whoever heard them. Luke believed it at the moment, looking up at the night glittered with stars. He personally liked night to day, as it was calming and felt rich with possibility.

"So, where are you from, Kiera?" Luke leaned back, letting his tense muscles relax.

"Anywhere, everywhere, somewhere. The place I am at, and will be and was." Kiera had a way of never talking about herself. It was obvious she didn't want to talk about her past, but that compelled Luke even more to find out. How does someone give away their identity? How do they give up their past, their history, to live a blank canvas? No home to go to at night, no friends to talk to…will she leave him too when it's time? Her book was blank, and he realized it would always be that way.

"Hm. You already know where I'm from. So, on a different note, what is your favorite color?" Luke asked. He half expected her to tell him that it was whatever color she saw at that moment. But she didn't.

"I like to say purple, the shade the sky turns when the sun is already down but the moon is full. But blue also, like the irresistible sea." Kiera turned her body to Luke. He noticed she was very fit, her dress hugging her—_I will not think this way_, Luke thought. He willed himself to look at her face.

"What about yours, Luke?" She asked, "What are your favorite colors?"

"Gold and Silver, the color of the Po trees on Lienid. They are so beautiful." Luke hated to admit it, but he was a bit homesick. Whenever he turned, he expected to see the stone statues of his ancestors, the roaring sea and his people. But he knew he would get over it in time. Time killed everything—doubt, fear, hope, and life. Time could never be stopped, nor changed. It was a constant in this world.

"If you would permit, Luke, would you tell me about Lienid? I know I haven't told you anything of my past, but it doesn't mean you can't tell me of yours." She was so convincing. And he did want to talk about Lienid.

So he told her tales of his land. Wonderful, fascinating tales. "In the winter, when the wind was blowing hard and the snow falling, the travelers said the jagged rocks that created the mountain looked like a three headed dragon, all angles and teeth." That was one of his favorite stories. He talked about how in the spring, the birds sang so sweetly that men used them to woo the maidens. The fighting was amazing too. The iron tipped spears dipped in gold was the best sort of weapon a man could have. The story behind it captivated Kiera.

"A man named Lyon lived west of the mountains, a man of few words. He was not known to many and usually kept to himself. Lyon wasn't unkind, but he wasn't one to unnecessarily show his kindness. Lyon was a weapon maker, but not a good one at that. He usually made wood spears for the laborers around the city. They couldn't hit a straight target but could hit deep, whatever it hit. One day, the eldest prince of Lienid came to this town. He was challenging all of Lienid to make him the best spear, one that could kill a two-faced dragon in five seconds flat.

Lyon wasn't interested. He knew he could not beat the famous weapon makers, for his talent wasn't as great as the others. So while all the other blacksmiths, silversmiths, and so on were scrambling to make the spear that would kill this imaginary beast, Lyon went to the forest to calm his mind. He ambled on so far, his thoughts were so preoccupied, that once he was in his right mind he realized he was lost. The trees became thick with syrup and the branches intertwined as a canopy. The birds had stopped singing, and not a leaf was moving or stirring. Lyon was not stupid. He knew something was near, something that scared the birds away. But still, he moved forth. He was a brave man, and would not scurry at paranoia.

He heard a rustle. Not a tiny one, but a huge rustle. The ground shook with the leaves, like a tremor was going through the earth. He stopped, dropping to the ground. He stood absolutely still for eternity, when the rustlings stop. He was relieved, but then saw a shadow come. A giant, looming shadow. Actually, two giant looming shadows. Lyon slowly looked up, almost collapsing with shock. It was the two headed beast itself! The dragon was big, its blue scales shone like the deep of the sea. Its eyes were bright yellow, intelligence gleaming from them. It was no ordinary monster, as it wasn't only physical. The creature cocked both of its heads at Lyon, and gestured its heads to him for him to follow it. Lyon felt as though he finally cracked. This imaginary legend was gesturing to him to follow? But he was entranced, so he followed. He followed for three days and three nights, not eating or drinking anything to keep up with the dragon. When it stopped, Lyon was weak and was starting to doubt his trust in this animal. But then, amazingly, it spoke. 'I know of this foolish contest,' one of the heads said. 'I have chosen you to make the best weapon, in exchange it will never be able to harm an innocent animal, such as myself,' said the other head.

Lyon was excited. He readily agreed to this request. The dragon then took an object from the depths of a cave that they were at. It was the most beautiful spear Lyon had ever seen. It was of the hardest wood, with an iron tipped spear with gold on top. It was fast and strong, the two most important factors for a spear. Lyon thanked the beast over and over again, and ran as fast as he could to show the prince.

Everyone was dumbstruck. Lyon had won; no one had even come close. But before he handed the spear to the prince, he made the prince promise that no one could use this type of spear to hurt an innocent animal. Lyon made him swear on his children's blood, and the blood of the island. The prince agreed. And that is how this spear was made."

What made Kiera love this story like no other was that, unlike most, there was not a punishment or foolishness in it. There was a simple, golden story that showed that people _weren't_ always stupid. That was a new idea to Kiera.

The night was beginning to get old, and Kiera need her strength. "Good night, Luke," and she turned around to sleep. She was half asleep when she heard, "Good night, Graced one."

They reached the city by noon. The people weren't tamed in Thackyn. They bustled around, throwing Kiera and Luke around. The venders were overbearing, selling clay pots to, oddly enough, back scratchers. One man persisted on Kiera so much that Luke had to threat the man to let her go. The buildings were whitewashed, statues coming out of the taller ones, as guardians of the night. The cobbled road was full with donkeys, horses and carts. Not to mention children in rags running around, giving the ladies on the sidewalk something to tsk about.

Kiera guided Luke to the butcher shop. This was their hope to find _something_ for their hunt. This man sounded very sketchy, and Kiera wanted to know the story. They entered the big, bustling shop, good people and not-so-good people gossiping together and talking. Luke almost punched a man for leering at Kiera, but she beat him to it. They didn't want to attract attention, so they quickly walked around the man gushing blood from his nose.

Now, it was time to find some answers.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

There was a small table open, surrounded by travelers, maids and merchants. The best place to overhear things that shouldn't be heard. Gossip was a deadly weapon, and Kiera knew she had it in her grasp. All she had to do was sharpen the tip and then go hunting.

Luke and she sat down, ordering just tea and Luke ordered fish plain, which was a bit odd. But if that's how they did it in his town, so Kiera tried not to stare. So, they decided that they would murmur nonsense to each other, so they wouldn't look so obviously suspicious. They're cover was that Luke was secretly courting her, and they needed to meet where no one knew them. It had holes, but no one would look closer.

Kiera was depending on the travelers, but maids did have inside information, if they're masters were important people. Luke had it on the merchants, because those people sold high and far and they must've heard something.

They were both leaning back on their seats, but close together, so no one got suspicious. Kiera could hear every little sound, but was straining for some particular words to be said. Finally, after an excruciating hour and two fish later (on Luke's behalf) they finally heard something—and thankfully, it was from the travelers.

"Want to know what I heard?" said the stocky one, with some sort of assessment of jewelry.

"Here goes Lawrence again. Let's hear it." One of his companions said, laughing.

"Put a rock in it, Ulrich! So, I heard that up north in Nander—you know, where King Esther is like a mighty tyrant!—that the man who has been causing all these riot things will start one there during the next full moon week. In Teyt, I heard. Yup, old butcher Warner never told a truer, crazier tale! Mighty, he's as fine as a storyteller, only I reckon this time he's been telling the truth." Lawrence sat back in his chair while his friends gave each other glances.

Without waiting for the companions' replies, Luke and Kiera stood up quickly, filled with doubtful excitement. They gave each other a grin and walked briskly out.

They were right outside the store when a man came out after them. He had on an apron with stains and an angry expression on his face. Obviously, he was the chef.

"YOU TWO LOVEBIRDS," The chef bellowed, taking their forearms, "STILL HAVE TO PAY!"

Luke, as fast as he could, got out his coin purse and started to apologize while paying the chef. "And here's a little extra for your trouble," Luke winked. The chef grunted in content and turned back to the deli.

Kiera was giving the prince a death stare.

"What?" He asked, truly bewildered. Didn't he do a good thing?

"We can't just pay people off, Luke! We're not unlimitedly rich, unlike how you're use to. Don't give me that look! I can tell you're wealthy—don't ask how. But we have to be conservative. So stop tipping people if we do something wrong." Kiera huffed and she crossed her arms, but Luke could see her lips curl upwards once he went on his knees and begged for her forgiveness.

"Get up, you sap. Oh mountains! We have to get to that soon-to-be-riot location, Teyt, before the actual riot happens." Kiera took off her saddle bag and opened it. After rifling through it for a moment, she pulled out a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it, Luke saw that it was a map of the seven kingdoms.

"Hm. We're here…and have to get there." Murmured Luke, looking over Kiera's shoulder and tracing his finger on the map. "That would take, what, two weeks?"

Kiera nodded. "The riot will happen in a month, if those travelers were accurate, and I sure hope they were. It will give us enough time to scope that location and get prepared."

Luke looked at her and grinned at her concentrated face. "Stop looking at me like I'm a court joker. We need to work." And at that Luke rolled his eyes.

"When should we go, O'Funny One?" Luke teased. Kiera gave him a look. "Today, as fast as we can, obviously." Now, it was Luke's turn to give her a look.

"Let's go get the horses." Kiera said, pointedly ignoring him.

They got their second surprise then, and not a pleasant one. Someone had stolen their horse from the stable they rented. Apparently, this stable, which the owner prided "as safe as your own home!" wasn't so trustworthy after all.

Kiera was ready to buy two new ones (by haggling the price down by mentioning the stable's unreliability) but it was Luke who took it hard.

Kiera, after making a deal for two middle aged horses, found him sitting outside, his eyes unseeing to the blue sky ahead of him.

"Luke—Brother," Kiera kept up their cover story while talking; "it was only a horse. A very fine horse I may add, but just a horse."

"It may seem silly to everyone, but Ginger wasn't just a plain horse. I got her as a foul and she's been there through everything, even if she couldn't speak. She was like a dear friend who never talked back." Luke said the last part while staring at Kiera. She was surer of it now that he was a Graceling. Just what was his Grace was the question.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

They rode under nightfall, and even though Kiera wanted to go until sunrise, Luke persuaded her to stop and, on the side of the mountains, set up camp. They were both aching (even if Kiera would never admit it) and so they just set up blankets and fell asleep, unconsciously huddling together as the cold set in.

Kiera woke first, at the break of dawn light. Snow was just settling. She looked to her left and was shocked to see Luke right next to her with his arms around her waist. She saw a thin layer of snow on both of them. So they were like this for a while. Kiera rationed it was just to share body warmth in the harsh weather, but she felt slightly pleased by it—and then angry at herself for feeling that way, because it was stupid. So, as quietly as she could, she detangled herself from him and starting saddling both sleepy horses, and before forgetting, took the medicine for her eyes.

After setting everything for their trip and having no more reasons to let Luke sleep, she shook him awake. Bleary-eyed for a few minutes, Luke soon fully woke up. He started to pack up the blanket he was sleeping on when he saw Kiera involuntarily shiver. He went to her and put the blanket around her shoulders.

"Don't protest. It's just that my horse can't hold anymore," said Luke. Kiera knew he was just protecting her pride, but accepted the still warm blanket.

They rode in silence, each enjoying the crisp air, the still wind and the beauty the snow brought over night. Every hour, like clockwork, Kiera took her medicine in the fear travelers might stop them.

On their fourth hour—after just leaving the village of Canton—they saw on the side of the dirt path, a man and horse down. Luke signaled Kiera to stay a distance as he checked it out.

Luke got off his mare and took in the scene. A man as old as Luke's father was bleeding from a shot in the leg. His shabby brown horse was also shot in the front left leg, in an angle that made Luke conclude that the horse's shot was an accident. The man's on the other hand was not. Luke went to the man and took his saddle blanket to put pressure on the man's leg. He shouted to Kiera to come and put pressure on the horse, and with the speed Luke never saw in a woman, Kiera started the task.

"Sir, can you hear me? Blink twice if you can," Luke asked gently. The man, with his failing strength, blinked twice. "Good. We're going to get you help, okay?" Luke held the man's hand with his free one and wished the man hope. He opened his eyes to see the man with a bit of a glow, like he was starting to fight passionately to stay alive.

To Kiera, Luke said, "Stay here. I'm going to get help from Canton. I can ride fast and I go as fast as the horse lets me," With that, he tied the blanket to the man's leg and went to his horse and left.

Kiera tied her saddle blanket as tight as she could around the horse's wound and then went to tend the man.

"I'm…Kay." She introduced herself to the dying man. "Hold on. Luke, my fri—my brother is as fast as a Graced runner. Just hold on," Kiera wanted this man to live. She didn't want the regret of choosing—no matter how much it didn't feel like a choice—to use her Grace to save him. Kiera started to chant _hold on_ in head with her eyes closed, so she didn't notice the three black horses silently approach. Until, of course, one of the men took hold of her. Her eyes flew open and surveyed the scene.

"I've got her. The old man's down, so hurry!" yelled the bandit who was holding onto Kiera. She couldn't help but smile. To think she was harmless was the worst they could do.

The bandit had his arms around her, his hands keeping her arms in check. So Kiera used her legs instead. She interlaced her leg with his' so when she pulled forward, it threw him off balance, and he lessened his hold on her arms. She broke free and hit him in the nose, so it started to bleed.

He forgot all about her, tending to his nose, so she knew they weren't experienced bandits. She went after the one who was stealing the wounded man's possessions. He wasn't facing her, so she took her hands, clasped them together and charged. She got him cleanly on the head, knocking him out for a few minutes.

By that time the last bandit had noticed the loss of his crew, and seeing that the girl was the reason. He unsheathed the unnoticeable dagger from his belt. His back was to his own horse. Kiera eyed him.

The bandit was medium-height, lean and muscular and Kiera could see blond peeking out of the man's hat. And he had a purple and black eye. Graced.

This man was smart. He didn't charge, which would've been stupid and easy for Kiera to take him down.

Instead, he stayed where he was. And, to Kiera's surprise and suspicion, started to talk.

"I am so sorry. I am not a bandit. We—me and my friends—were just passing and wanted to help. We weren't stealing," the man said easily, even though at that moment he was pocketing her possessions that were on the ground.

Strangely, Kiera started to believe him. But then she stopped herself. He was wrong! …but was he? _No!_ She shook herself. _He's tricking me!_

Kiera started to advance. The man looked puzzled and amazed that she wasn't letting him go. Like she would let this scoundrel loose! Over her dead body.

"Stop. I am of no harm." He said a bit forcefully.

Kiera stopped, but then started up again. Now the man was angry. But before he could speak, Kiera ran and punched him in the jaw. She knew it was dangerous to let him speak.

Before she could do more damage, an unspoken signal was given and the trio saddled their horses (even when the man with the broken nose was still dripping blood) and galloped away. A few minutes later, Luke came with another horseman near-by.

"It's a doctor. He says he'll take care of it, even when I insisted. He says we can go."

Kiera nodded, but before she went to her horse, she went to the man and whispered, "Good luck". He looked at her with gratitude.

Kiera didn't tell Luke about the bandit incident. Partly because she didn't want to relive the incident while Luke asked questions. And partly because she finally figured out who the man reminded her of. A man from stories. A man who was dead, but real. A man she feared, hated and had to love.

Her father.

King Leck.


	9. Chapter 9

Kiera's mother's family was the ever so wealthy Danhurt family. Her mother, Emily, was young when King Leck was in power, with a wife and a child of ten.

Her family was visiting the King's palace for a visit to the noble family itself. Emily was set to marry a man related to the Queen. But, at the royal dinner, by the God's misfortune, she caught King Leck's eye for women.

So in the following weeks, King Leck sent the man Emily was to marry on a "business trip" and invited Emily to the palace alone. There, he used his Grace to make her believe that they two were married and were on their honeymoon.

It happened only once.

When Emily's family found out she was pregnant with a stranger's bastard child (she refused to say whose), she was immediately disowned. So she, Emily Winston (she changed her name by will) raised her child alone.

It was when Kiera was three that Emily knew what Kiera's Grace was. She hoped it was trivial or useless, so the messengers wouldn't bring Kiera to the King, who would somehow know who she was. But it wasn't.

It was a sunny day, and the toddler Kiera was outside while her mother was pulling weeds, when suddenly, a bee stung Kiera. Her mother rushed to her, expecting hysterical crying, except when she got to her daughter, there was no sting mark. And she saw the bee hovering overhead, as if frozen.

That's when she knew.

It took two days later to get to their destination. But even though neither would admit it, they wished it took even longer to get there. Surprisingly, they enjoyed each other's company.

Luke squeezed out of Kiera that she lived her childhood in Monsea and she hated rosemary herbs. And when she was little, she thought she could fly and broke an arm in the process. That there was no father in the picture and her mother was an amazing gardener, until she died when Kiera when was eight.

Kiera, in turned, learned that Luke's parents were both Graced. She learned that he taught himself to play the trumpet because his cousins told him that if he could play beautifully enough, the Gods would give him a Grace in return. At that, Kiera snorted.

When they got to Teyt, they couldn't waste time. Luke started to scout for information, as he was better at making people talk to him. Kiera, once in the inn, started to draw up plans to try to take this man down. Kiera first had to put into account the possibility if the man's Graced, and how useful it is. Also, she had to make a hunch why he was rebelling. Sure, the kings were a bit harsh, but they weren't so bad to rebel against.

By nightfall, Luke came back. He barged into the room, and Kiera looked at him startled.

"Kay," He began, just in case someone was listening, "the…uh…festival is believed to be in two days, around sunset in the courtyard." Kiera looked at him, a bumbling man trying to make a cover story. She started to laugh, and couldn't stop.

Once she calmed down, which wasn't so easy as the look Luke gave her made her start all over again, she started to talk about the plan. "I've got next to nothing," she confessed. "We don't know how he rebels! We were at the Sunder rebellion, but all we know is that those people were very clear headed, and organized. Does this man have a Grace? What's his target?" Kiera threw up her hands, "All I've got is that we should attack him directly—not the masses. I hate not having a plan." Grumbling, she leaned back in her chair. Luke started to pace. "Hm. Okay. Why don't we just wing it?" It was like him saying why they didn't just go dancing with roosters, naked.

"No plan? Just, waltz in and just go moving about, like a balderdash mountain!" Kiera exclaimed. Go in, without a plan? She knew Luke wasn't stupid, but now she wasn't so sure. Luke calmly sat down on the cot in the corner of the room. "What else do you suggest? Let's go and just figure it out. It's the best we got!" Kiera looked at him. She hated to admit it, but he was right. What plan did she have? They didn't even know who the troublemaker was, or how powerful he was. Her bet was that he was powerful, and smart. Riots are hard to control, but the one in Sunder was precise and brutal. "Fine. Let's do it your way. But if you get your head smashed in, don't come whimpering to me!"

Luke chuckled. "I probably wouldn't have enough of my body to do that." Kiera just glared. Luke sobered up, but there was a small grin still on his face.

Two days later, sunset, Kiera and Luke were at the courtyard. They were looking at the market, smelling and buying fruits, laughing and smiling. They acted like they were siblings, having a good time in a foreign town. While Kiera was shoving strawberries into Luke's mouth, she was watching the courtyard with a keen eye.

Right when the sun was half down the horizon, people started to swarm the courtyard. This was unlike anything Kiera ever saw. It was pretty strange that a riot was _arranged_, but so concise? They carried swords and torches, and started to yell. It was surreal. They weren't attacking anyone, but they were yelling things about the king. Horrible, horrible things about the king. In less than a minute, Kiera saw the city's enforcers coming. That's when the bloodshed began.

Luke took Kiera's hand and they dove under a fruit stall. Their eyes started to search for the man. All they could see is villagers killing the enforcers while screaming rebellious words. But strangely, it wasn't all of the villagers of the town. The ones selling goods were as confused and deathly afraid as a passerby would be. They hid under the stalls too. Kiera only had one minute of confusion of why only some were rebelling, when she figured it out. The rebellion consisted of the meaty, scary, lethal men. The ones that would actually make a difference in a riot. She guessed that the man only affected the people that were important. Kiera decided that this man might've been smart, but he was very arrogant, which made him also stupid. If it was her, she'd use everyone. The sheer number would've been scary enough, but Kiera knew that the weaker-looking folk had talents themselves. "Dear mountain lord, I hate stupidity," she muttered to herself.

Where was the man? She looked around, and slowly untangled herself from underneath the cart. She needed to be in the action, partly because she had to find this troublemaker and partly because it seemed _fun_. Kiera walked into the crowd, guessing the man would be in the center, surrounded by his loyal subjects. The first brute who tried to handle her got a broken arm and a disfigured face. The second one got himself with two broken legs and the third, well he ran away when he saw his companions. Kiera advanced, determined. Strangely, farther she went, the more people started to try to pummel her. They were trying to protect the man. She didn't want to fatally hurt anyone, but she unsheathed a long dagger just in case.

Just as she was about to get to the dead center, a huge man blocked her path. He was over six feet, maybe even over six five, and was all muscle. He was broad, and had a stupid but evil glint in his eye. Kiera didn't hesitate when he tried to grab her with his meaty hands. She took her dagger and stabbed him in the gut and ran forward, knowing she shouldn't feel any guilt. Finally, she reached the middle.

It was a strange sight. There was a lone man in the middle, with everyone fighting around him, but there was a three feet radius around him that no one dared to touch. His eyes were closed and he was muttering things. Kiera almost gagged. She knew him. She could've stopped him.

It was the Graced bandit, the one like her father.

Oh no, she thought. He had that power. A power to control all and to create mayhem. Which he was doing at that moment.


End file.
